


we’ll still be standing in the harsh light of day

by AppleJuiz



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara Friendship, Episode: s04e16 Mr. Yin presents ..., F/M, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Juliet and Her BoysTM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleJuiz/pseuds/AppleJuiz
Summary: His partner is nothing short of a warrior. She packs a punch, her voice booms in alleys and warehouses, she takes up space wherever she goes.Holding her right now though, she feels breakable and light and small.So he doesn’t look at her, he stares out at the skyline and the sunrise because he knows he’s not supposed to see this, not supposed to see her like this.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara, Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	we’ll still be standing in the harsh light of day

**Author's Note:**

> I return to writing fanfic in the middle of a pandemic and during finals week after months of radio silence with a short piece about an episode of a TV show that aired close to a decade ago. Bone apple the teeth.

She’s never seemed this small before. 

His partner is nothing short of a warrior. She packs a punch, her voice booms in alleys and warehouses, she takes up space wherever she goes. 

Holding her right now though, she feels breakable and light and small. 

So he doesn’t look at her, he stares out at the skyline and the sunrise because he knows he’s not supposed to see this, not supposed to see her like this. 

But he won’t let go. He plants his feet and digs his fingers into her jacket and braces himself against the sobs that shake through her like a storm. 

He’s had a lot of partners. He hasn’t liked most of them. Even when he did like them, they always frustrated him just a little, always held him back in one way or another. 

He remembers when he didn’t even like her. He doesn’t remember when he stopped not liking her.

He doesn’t know why her shaky breaths and painful gasps and trembling hands against his chest cut through him worse than any injury he’s ever sustained on the force. 

Lauren broke her arm once. She fell off the monkey bars at the park. She was six and he was in high school, practically an adult, but when he dashed over to her and tried to assess the situation with cool professionalism, she was crying and no matter how hard he tried to be calm, he felt tears in his eyes. 

He doesn’t cry now. He’s an adult and he’s a man.

But it hurts him still in ways he didn’t think he could be hurt by someone else’s pain. 

When O’Hara goes quiet and still, inhales unsteadily and moves to step away, he holds her for a second longer. It’s more for himself than for her, to remind himself that she’s still here. 

“Thank you,” she says against his suit jacket. 

“Anytime, O’Hara,” he says and convinces himself that it’s okay to let her go. 

  
  
  


Vick announces that Yin is still out there, gratefully while Juliet is distracted by Guster. She’s starting to look steadier on her feet even if her eyes are still wet and puffy and her hands shake where they rest on her hip. 

Gus steps towards her and she slides her arms around his waist. 

Lassiter wanders over, even more eager than before to keep an eye on his partner while this madman is on the street still. It seems like the games are over, but he still wants to make sure. 

“A part of me knew,” she’s saying, patting Gus on the back. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“O’Hara,” he says rapping his knuckles on the side of his car window. The two step apart, Juliet weakly grinning. It sets his stomach at ease. Everything will be okay. “Let’s get you back to your apartment.”

She nods, and touches Gus’s arm briefly. 

“If you need anything,” Gus starts. Juliet nods, pressing her lips together. It’s another almost smile. A knot of tension in his shoulders unties. Good. That’s good. 

From the second he pulled her gag out he knew she would be okay. But it’s a nice confirmation. His partner is not fragile, is not small, is not breakable. She won’t let this night, this moment, or this madman change her. 

She gets the passenger door for herself after a few failed attempts with her trembling hands. 

He doesn’t look. Not because he doesn’t want to see but because he shouldn’t. It’s not for him to see. His partner can hold herself together and hold herself up and on the off chance that she can’t he trusts he’ll notice or that she’ll let him know and then he can step in and do what he needs to do. 

But until then, his job is to wait, to take care of the nonsense like driving her home while she stares out the window of his car at the streets of Santa Barbara like they’re something new, like securing her place while she takes a long shower that sends steam slipping out from under the doorway, like double checking his multiple side arms and her various stashed weapons while she cries in the bathroom and then brushes her teeth. 

Her place is neat but not organized. It’s not girly but distinctly feminine, scented candles and picture frames and decorative bookstops. Things that he remembers from decorating with Victoria that he didn’t even think of. He tries not to look at the pictures of her and her family, that’s not what he’s here for. 

“Place’s clear,” he announces, hovering in the doorway of her bedroom. She’s in a pajama set, light pastel colors and a little flower design, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the blank wall across from her. Her eyes are somewhere else, still red but dry as a bone. 

It feels like an invasion but he makes his way back over to her kitchen and grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water and brings it back to her. 

“Hey,” he says. She blinks and there she is again, his partner, eyes refocusing.

“Oh,” she says, taking the glass and staring at it for a moment like she doesn’t know what it’s for. “Thank you. Carlton.”

“Anytime, partner,” he says and grips her shoulder for a brief moment. Still there. Right in front of him, on solid ground, in her pastel pajamas.

He pulls away, leaves her to her water and her bed. It’s close to nine in the morning but he hopes she’ll draw the shades and at least try to sleep.

“Where are you going?” she asks. 

He pats his sidearm. “Gonna set up a watch by your back door. McNab is in a patrol car out front. We’ve got you covered, O’Hara.”

Her nose wrinkles and she glances down at the water. 

“Could you just… stay in here?” She asks. “Please.”

It is smarter from a tactical vantage point. Especially with a psycho like Yin who has a penchant for getting into places without a trace. 

Though he’s not worried about Yin. He’s worried about his partner and his partner is white knuckling the glass and staring up at him with unflinching eyes. 

“I suppose I could do that,” he says, glancing around the room for points of entry. “That is… if it doesn’t get uncomfortable.”

“I might fall asleep halfway through this water,” she says. Another small smile. He thinks that’s three. “I just don’t want to, uh…”

She sighs, rubs at the space between her eyebrows. 

He nods, glances around the room again and heads for the armchair by the window. It’s not the most comfortable but better than the seats in her kitchen. 

“Thank you,” she says. She sets the empty cup in her bedside and drops down on the bed. 

“No need,” he says. “It’s what partners are for. You’d do the same for me.”

Her smile is real and big and the best thing he could hope for right now. 

“Yes,” she says, like it’s something she’s remembering. “Yes I would.”

  
  
  


He keeps his eyes on the window, her backyard, but he knows she isn’t sleeping, just tossing and turning, sheets rustling, breathing speeding up and slowing down again. This is a battle he can’t fight for her, no race to the finish, no perp to shoot or gears to jam. She has to fight this one out herself. 

But he’s not worried. He refuses to be worried actually because then that means that he’s not sure and he is sure. His partner is strong, unstoppable, and generally unshakeable. 

She will be okay. 

  
  
  


The doorbell rings and he’s on his feet in a second, gun raised. O’Hara is out of the bed too, her own gun locked and loaded. He didn’t even see where it came from. He’s immensely proud. 

He takes point, heading out of the room and towards the door. He should probably tell her to stay further back, but no, it’s smarter to keep her close and it’s natural to move like this, work in tandem. 

There’s no peephole so he inches the front door open. 

It’s Spencer, hair even more ridiculously disheveled than usually, shoulder stiff, and eyes tired and puffy. 

Lassiter rolls his eyes, stepping back and letting the door swing open. He keeps his hand on the gun though, a natural reflex with Spencer. 

“Lassie?” Spencer says, frowning and blinking at the door like he’s in the wrong place. 

“Shawn?” Juliet says, looking equally confused but also the most alive he’s seen her since… well since the backlot twelve hours ago. 

Lassiter moves out of the way as Spencer’s shoulders sag with relief and Juliet lowers her weapon. 

“Hey,” he says or she says or they both say, overlapping and stumbling. 

Spencer moves towards her in a vague aborted gesture, arms reaching out and then slipping down when he actually gets close. Juliet's eyes scans every disjointed muscle movement but she steps in too and then he reaches out again and she frowns and moves into him. 

Lassiter rolls his eyes and heads for the kitchen and coffee, and doesn’t think about how he unquestioningly trusts Spencer with his partner’s safety, physically at the very least. 

  
  
  


(With the coffee machine beeping and mugs clinking in the distance, Shawn hugs Juliet. He hugs her but not too tight, as much as he’d love to crush her into him and fuse like Voltron or something so she’s never out of sight again. 

He keeps his arms respectfully around her waist, hands loose and gentle on her back. She hooks her chin over his shoulder and her fingers press into his shoulder blades, lightly at first and then gripping like she’s mapped out solid ground and can rest her weight at ease. 

He’s not holding her up though. In fact she’s probably the only thing keeping his steady. His knees have been shaking for hours but they’re worse now. He hasn’t cried, not once, all night, and God help him but he won’t here, not now in her front doorway. 

But he exhales, wet and shaky and breathes out her name, “Jules.” And it feels like crying. 

Her nails dig into his shirt, he feels the pinch of it against his skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He supposes he should apologize once for each individual failing: for her getting taken in the first place, for not being there, for the drive in and for his aborted speech in her hospital room and all that is still just the tip of the iceberg, he still owes her so many more. 

She doesn’t say anything, but her breathing is steady and loud in his ears, thank God, because for hours all he could hear echoing in his head was her voice over the phone telling him he could still save Abigail. Moments when he thought those might have been the last words she would ever say to him or anyone. 

He presses his nose to her hair and thinks about how much he loves her and how it burns through him and scares him and ruins him. He thinks about a different world where he could do this moment again but his chest wouldn’t sting with Abigail’s absence and Juliet’s arms and ankles would be red with rope burn and she wouldn’t hate him for every single misstep he made up to and including getting her kidnapped by a serial killer. He thinks in that world he’d sweep her off her feet right now and kiss her so gently on the mouth and take her to bed and wrap his arms around her and promise to keep her safe even though he’s so woefully unprepared for the task. 

Her hand slips up and brushes the back of his neck, her fingers slide loosely in his hair and he wishes he could actually read her mind or at least see her face but he thinks he might never stop hugging her. 

This actually might be the first time he’s hugged her and if it isn’t he hasn't been paying enough attention. Well, no matter the case he hasn’t been paying enough attention. 

She steps back and he lets go, shuffling awkwardly on his feet, still half in the doorway. 

She looks calm and steady and perfectly herself. 

“Juliet,” he says because he wants to say a million other things that he knows he can’t right now so he hopes that her name will be enough to capture all of it, every breathless helpless thought he’s having, every silence between them, every moment they had that they left uncomplicated since they always felt like stepping stones to something more until tonight when the promise of more was ripped out from under him. He has the beginnings to a million grand speeches about them and about her that now is not the time for so he just says her name like that will split the difference. It feels weird in his mouth, the hard _t_ of it and the sharp _ee_. 

She smiles her little grimace smile, nose wrinkling, cheeks chipmunking, and shakes her head. 

“Ew,” she says. 

And so he says, “Jules.” But it doesn’t mean _Jules_ , it means _You’re perfect_ and _I’m sorry_ just to have one more for good measure. 

And she says with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Well, I guess now I’ve heard it both ways.”

And he’s in love with her.)

  
  
  


Lassiter returns to whatever the hell that exchange is with two cups of coffee. He hands a mug to his partner. 

“Decaf,” he says. The distinction is important because it’s looking less and less likely like she will sleep especially since Spencer is still in the doorway, but that doesn’t change his opinion about it. 

Juliet nods and takes it.

Spencer is still in a very un-Spencer kind of way, blinking fast and moving slow. It’s frustrating that this is somehow worse than regular Spencer behavior. 

“Oh, thanks, Lassie, you shouldn’t have,” Spencer says, reaching for his mug. Lassiter bats his hand away. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Juliet's shoulders relax and thinks he could tolerate Spencer for a little while longer if it means putting her at ease, drawing his partner back out. 

Guster arrives on the doorstep, seemingly out of thin air, with a large brown paper bag. 

“They were out,” he announces. 

“What do you mean they were out?” Spencer asks. 

“No crullers, just donuts,” he says. “Besides, I don’t think Juliet even likes crullers.”

“What?” Spencer demands. 

“I don’t,” Juliet says with a click of her tongue. 

“What?” Spencer says again but louder. 

“Told you,” Guster says and then the two are bickering over each other and pushing into the hallway and then the living room, fighting over donuts but not before they present one carefully to Juliet. 

Lassiter sighs as the rooms fill with noise and something in the living room thuds. Juliet rolls her eyes and heads on after them. 

(In fifteen minutes, he’ll have a seat in the living room with the best angles, pistol loosely by his side. Juliet, Shawn, and Gus will squish onto the couch, Juliet in the middle which is almost mind-boggling with how often he’s seen the other two side by side. Shawn and Gus who were very insistent that they watch a movie with Val Kilmer, will be annoyingly talking over the whole thing. And without any of them noticing, Juliet will slip off to sleep right there on her couch in a room filled with noise and the smell of coffee and donut crumbs.)

Lassiter takes another moment in the relative quiet and takes a sip of his coffee before shutting the door and locking it tight, following his partner into the living room. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don’t put it past me to write more psych doc now that I know that I can. This rewatch is really getting me right in the heart so let me know in the comments if you want to see more of this. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it half as much as it was cathartic for me.


End file.
